The 7 Secrets of the Prolific Writer's Block (13 page)

Luck goes in the Psychological column because (1) it’s the “residue of design” (i.e., planning), as Milton said,
1
and (2) psychological research has shown you can actually “create” luck via an optimistic attitude that encourages you to persevere and discover opportunity where someone pessimistic might not.
2
In Chapter 8, I talk about strategies for minimizing the role of luck in your success, but luck will always be a factor and good luck is always helpful.

(9)
Belief in self and process, a strongly held purpose or mission, and/or a “runner’s identity” are crucial because they create a context that helps you focus on your goal and make good decisions.
These qualities lead to a mindset that says, “I am a runner, and therefore I will run today.” Or, “I am a runner, and therefore I will invest in top-quality running shoes.” This is similar to the “writing comes first” dictum many writers use to make sure the writing gets done despite life’s many responsibilities and distractions.

1
He actually said, “Luck is the residue of opportunity and design,” and was later famously quoted by philosophical baseball player Branch Rickey.

2
Richard Wiseman, “Psychology of Luck” (blog), n.d. (www.richardwiseman.com/research/psychologyluck.html).

L
ike running, writing is an activity that requires few resources if you’re going to do it casually, but a lot more if you’re going to do it seriously. William Faulkner, who notwithstanding his literary and other virtues was a font of perfectionist grandiosity, famously said in his Paris Review interview, “My own experience has been that the tools I need for my trade are paper, tobacco, food, and a little whiskey.” I’m pretty sure that that wasn’t, in fact, the complete list—he forgot, at the very least, a writing instrument—but, in any case, most writers need a lot more than that to write prolifically.

• Writing space/room
  
• Computer (with Internet, for 
  research, Web, emails)
  
• Computer (without 
  Internet, for writing)
  
• Computer printer and 
  other peripherals
  
• Ergonomic furniture
  
• Reference books
  
• Software—planners, outliners, 
  note-takers, progress tracking, etc.
  
• Money
  
• Comfortable clothes
  

• Dedication
  
• Focus
  
• Ability to “write past wall”
  
• Self knowledge: ability to analyze 
  and improve performance
  
• Self-forgiveness/resilience
  
• Ability to tolerate discomfort
  
• Perseverance
  
• Ability to stay attached to goal
  
• Ability to prioritize and to 
  sacrifice lesser priorities (e.g., 
  to create time for this goal
  
• Devotion to self care (basic nutrition, 
  rest, mental, and physical health)
  
• Luck
  
• Clarity and strength of purpose
  
• Belief in self, the goal, the process, etc.
  
• “Writer’s identity”
  

• Supportive family
  
• Supportive boss and coworkers
  
• Coach/mentor/trainer
  
• Critique partner(s)
  
• Friends
  
• Writing community
  
• Audience
  
• Medical, nutritional, 
  psychological, and 
  other professionals
  

Your list will probably be somewhat different from those of other writers.

The same lessons from the running list apply to this one:

1. Ambitious writing requires many resources.
   
2. Guessing at the requirements isn’t enough—consult experts.
   
3. Don’t devalue non-material resources.
   
4. Don’t forget money.
   
5. The more resources you provide for yourself, the better your chances of success.
   
6. Optimize.
   
7. There are no trivial resources.
   
8. Don’t overlook the role of luck.
   
9. An organizing vision/identity is crucial.
   

It’s interesting how much the Psychological and Community lists overlap those for runners; perhaps all ambitious endeavors require much the same resources in these areas.

The Material list is very different, however, and much shorter. We writers are lucky in having fewer material requirements than those in many other fields. That’s not the same as having no requirements, however, and it’s also not to say that the requirements we do have aren’t essential. The fact that writing has few material requirements often confuses naïve writers and others into thinking writing is easy. As I discuss in Section 6.4, it’s not—and, anyway, as discussed in Section 2.7, “easy” and “hard” are antiproductive labels.

T
he prolific know that the thing to do with resources is provide them for yourself in abundance. Don’t waste time asking “Do I really need this?” or “Can I get along without that?” Yes, you can equip yourself to the point of waste and self-indulgence, but most underproductive writers are so far from crossing that line that they don’t even have to worry.

The prolific equip themselves abundantly because they are focused on their goals and have a clear sense of their priorities. They also understand, consciously or intuitively, the nine rules above. And they understand that even an expensive-seeming purchase is a good investment if it yields an important result—and they don’t define “important” narrowly. A perfectionist might define “selling my book” as the only worthwhile outcome for a conference he’s attending, but a compassionately objective person can identify many others, including learning valuable information and meeting a potential critique partner.

Be this writer...

Not this one...

The prolific are also prepared to “waste money” in the service of an important endeavor; for instance, to spend it on a conference that turns out not to be useful. That’s because, as discussed in Section 2.10, they don’t expect themselves to be precognitive or infallible.

And the prolific also watch out for the situational perfectionism that can follow a major investment (Section 2.9).

The prolific also know that every time you provide a resource for yourself, you boost your productivity not only by improving your writing conditions but by validating yourself as a writer. “This is who I am, and this is what is important to me,” you proclaim, not only to others but yourself, thus working to overcome the barriers of bias and internalized oppression (Chapter 6). Resourcing yourself is also an intrinsically empowering act and can help heal the disempowerment fundamental to procrastination.

Depriving yourself of resources, in contrast, not only stalls you logistically but sends a message of shame and disempowerment. One writer told me how in the midst of spending $50 on her kids’ school supplies she agonized over whether to buy a $5 pack of pencils for herself, and ultimately decided not to. As you can imagine, the deprivation felt bad. Later, however, she returned to the store, bought her pencils, and then felt great—and wrote a bunch.

W
riters, like others, tend to be fascinated by the work habits, techniques, and tools of their more successful colleagues. John Gardner wrote, in
On Becoming a Novelist
, “The single question most often asked during question-and-answer periods in university auditoriums and classrooms is: ‘Do you write with a pen, a typewriter, or what?’” (This was in 1983, so computers weren’t part of the dialogue.)

Fortunately, many successful writers are generous with that kind of information. The
Paris Review
interviews are a treasure trove, as is
The Guardian
series on Writers’ Rooms
1
and Rules for Writers.
2

Here’s Steven Pressfield in
The War of Art
:

I get up, take a shower, have breakfast, I read the paper, brush my teeth. If I have phone calls to make, I make them. I’ve got my coffee now. I put on my lucky work boots and stitch up the lucky laces that my niece Meredith gave me. I head back to my office, crank up the computer. My lucky hooded sweatshirt is draped over the chair ... It’s about ten-thirty now. I sit down and plunge in. When I start making typos, I know I’m getting tired. That’s four hours or so. I’ve hit the point of diminishing returns. I wrap for the day. Copy whatever I’ve done to disk and stash the disk in the glove compartment of my truck in case there’s a fire and I have to run for it. I power down. It’s three, three-thirty. The office is closed.

And here’s an excerpt from science fiction writer Cory Doctorow’s 3,000-word description of his writing tools:

Laptop: Thinkpad X200. This is the next-to-most-recent version of Lenovo’s ThinkPad X-series, their lightweight travel notebooks. The X200 is fast enough that it never feels slow, and like all ThinkPads, is remarkably rugged and easy to do small maintenance chores upon. I bought mine in the UK but I prefer a US keyboard; I ordered one of these separately and did the swap in 20 seconds flat without every having done it before. I bought my own 500GB hard drive and 4GB of RAM separately (manufacturers always gouge on hard drives and memory) and installed them in about five minutes. Lenovo bought the ThinkPad line from IBM in 2005, but IBM still has the maintenance contract, through its IBM Global Services division. For $100 or so a year, I was able to buy an on-site/next-day hardware replacement warranty that means that when anything goes wrong with the laptop hardware, IBM sends a technician out to me the next day, with all the necessary replacement parts, no matter where I am in the world. I’ve been using ThinkPads since 2006 and have had occasion to use this maintenance contract three times, and all three times I was favorably impressed (lest you think three servicings in four years is an indicator of poor hardware quality, consider that every other brand of computer I’ve carried for any length of time became fatally wounded in less than a year).
3

Doctorow is a self-described geek; he also does a lot of traveling, and so has equipment needs beyond those of most writers. (The next paragraph is all about his choice of computer
battery
!) You don’t have to get as immersed in the technical details of your equipment as he does, but I quoted this lengthy excerpt to give you an idea of the importance some writers attach to their tools.

Pragmatic descriptions such as the above are antiperfectionist and ungrandiose: they generously support other writers’ productivity. Not all writers respond so helpfully, however. Some blather on about talent and how you either have it or don’t, while others trot out the clichéd “apply ass to chair” maxim. Not all of these writers are ill intentioned; some are genuinely ignorant of the mechanics of their own work and success. Some, however, do scorn pragmatic questions, and I call them “snobs and obfuscators.” If you ever run into one, don’t take it to heart but simply take your question to someone wiser.

The current king of non-snobs is probably J.A. Konrath, whose ebook,
The Newbie’s Guide to Publishing
, is a collection of hundreds of blog posts that delve deep into the habits and psyche of a professional writer. If you’re reading this book, you probably want to buy that one.

The remaining sections of this chapter provide
general
advice and strategies related to the material and community resources needed by prolific writers. (The psychological resources are covered throughout the rest of the book.) Everyone’s needs differ, so you should see what works for you.